Sucker Punch
by LynnnSmith
Summary: When Amar reveals a Dauntless initiate who only has four fears, it peaks Caria's interest enough that she agrees to help him train the transfers. However, a certain disrespectful initiate may give her more than she bargained for. Set during Four and Eric's initiation. Eric/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Caria**

"Well don't you look fierce today," Amar remarks as he settles down beside me. The small smile on his face is irksome, and he makes a point of sweeping his eyes over me in an exaggerated gesture. He throws his head back and laughs when I glare, settling back into his seat and grinning down at the five bowls in the center of the room.

"I don't want to be here," I grumble to him, too quiet for other members to hear me, but loud enough for him to.

"The Choosing Ceremony is an important process," he replies.

The ceremony hasn't actually started yet. We're waiting for Abnegation members to file in, all of them a bit behind because they take the stairs every year. For a group that preaches selflessness it's kind of funny they don't see this act as wasting time for the rest of us. Especially considering there are a solid twenty flights of stairs.

"I'm hungover," I breathe. His lips quirk into a smirk and he glances at me from the corner of his eye.

"That's not fair to our initiates," he tells me. It's true, though. Every kid who bleeds into our bowl is going to rouse screams from the rest of our faction, which will worsen my headache, which will make me despise every single initiate.

"Maybe no one will transfer," I respond. "Maybe we won't have any initiates this year."

Amar snorts beside me and I know he's made his point.

Max, one of our leaders, is in charge this year. He makes his speech and begins the process of calling the names of all the sixteen year old initiates. Each new person is presented with a knife and a choice and, because faction is supposed to come before blood, each person gives their life to their new faction.

I watch without any enthusiasm, though Amar makes up for it by hollering and clapping and laughing every time a person bleeds onto the burning coals. My head pounds and I purse my lips as the next initiate takes the place of the last.

I can't help my reaction when a drab Abnegation boy nearly cuts his palm down to the bone and then bleeds into our bowl. My eyes widen, my jaw drops, and the people around me are on their feet in their excitement. I follow the boy with my eyes as he ascends the stairs. I watch the wobble of his steps.

When I turn back to Amar the stunned expression on my face is still there; I can feel it. He grins at me and laughs. He leans in to ask me over the screaming of the crowd, "Something caught your eye?"

"When was the last time a Stiff transferred here?" I shout at him, not waiting for his answer as I turn and crane my neck to see him. He is wrapping his hand with a piece of his shirt to try and stop the bleeding.

"Twenty years at least," he replies, and as the rest of the faction quiets down we turn our eyes back to the choosing. The grin is still on his face and I know it's likely I still look shell shocked.

When the process ends Amar grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet so that we can leave quickly. We rush into the stairwell and begin our descent. Adrenaline begins to pound through my veins and a couple of times I misjudge and end up slamming into the wall. Amar laughs at me and I can't help the smile that worms its way onto my lips as my headache finally begins to retreat.

The moment we reach the ground floor we fling ourselves outside and into the sunshine. As a group we begin to sprint toward the train tracks, not bothering to see if the initiates will follow us or not. Amar and I reach the train platform, still grinning from a runner's high, and he leads me to a black-haired woman I recognize almost immediately.

"Tori!" I crow, throwing an arm around her so I can pull her close and kiss her cheek.

"Caria!" she shouts in response. "Haven't seen you buy the shop in a while."

"Soon," I tell her, letting her go so I can begin my jog on the platform.

The train approaches quickly, and with confidence that only comes from experience, I reach out to grab the handle and swing myself into the car. Amar appears shortly after, then a few other Dauntless members, and then Tori. I think that's the last of us until another body appears, landing right as the train begins to curve. They barrel forward and slam into the side of the car.

Amar nudges me and hums, "Smooth."

"He made it onto the train, Amar," Tori chastises him. "That's all that matters."

I can't help but blink in surprise at the Stiff, who holds a hand to his nose while he studies us. The cloth he'd wrapped around his hand didn't do much good, as it's turned a bright, saturated red.

"He's supposed to be on the other car," Amar reminds Tori. However, when Tori doesn't seem at all bothered by the initiate in our train car, he shrugs and asks, "So what's your name, Stiff?"

The initiate opens his mouth to reply and then stops. His brows furrow and it becomes clear he doesn't want to tell us his given name. He looks away a moment and then back before saying, "You can call me Stiff for all I care."

My eyes go to Tori, who I know was in charge of aptitude tests, but she just gives the Stiff a nod. Curiosity burns immediately but I don't say anything. The kid is entitled to his demons.

It doesn't take long for him to back away from the open door and settle into a crouch beside us. He holds his head in his hands and tries to control his breathing. I nudge Amar and nod toward the kid, and Amar just grins and shrugs.

Dauntless use the trains to get everywhere, which means a lot of jumping on and jumping off because the trains never actually stop. A fear of heights could be a liability for the time being, but it's also something that'll be confronted very quickly.

When we get closer to our destination Amar reaches out and nudges the Stiff with his foot. The kid looks up in confusion.

"Time to get up, Stiff," Amar tells him. "It's almost time to jump."

"Jump?" he asks, fear lighting his blue eyes.

"The train doesn't stop," I explain.

"For anyone," Amar concludes.

The Stiff stands slowly and swallows hard. Tori pushes him closer toward the door and shouts to the rest of us, "Let the initiate off first!"

"What are you doing?" he hisses, face set in a scowl.

I don't think I've ever seen a Stiff so angry before. It almost makes me laugh, but instead we wait for him to jump from the car. The rest of us follow him quickly and with practiced ease. My feet hit the gravel and I let my knees go so that I roll forward and onto my shoulder and then back onto my feet.

The first time I jumped from the train I sprained my ankle because I thought it would be best to stay on my feet. The truth is you either need to roll or hit the ground running if you don't want to get hurt.

Amar claps a hand onto my shoulder and guides me toward the ledge of the building. I give him a wary look but he just grins and nods to me. I huff in annoyance. He was supposed to give the initiates the pep talk to make them jump.

"Slacker," I whisper as I step up onto the ledge. He just chuckles and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

I widen my feet so their equal with my shoulders and place my hands on my hips while I observe the initiates. The Dauntless born are already chatting with each other and brushing the dirt from their shoulders while the transfers mostly look nervous. Their eyes dart from me to the ledge like cornered animals trying to find an escape route. The Stiff just looks sick.

"Welcome to Dauntless," I call. The Dauntless born quiet down except for a few chuckles and exchanged smiles. The transfers are all tight lipped and pale. "This faction values bravery above all else, meaning all of you will be facing your fears or you will die trying. If you choose not to try, you can leave. It looks like this year we have a record low of transfers."

My fellow members shout their joy and pride, something that makes me smirk.

"If you want to get into the compound, this is the only way. You'll have to jump off this ledge." I pick up one foot and move it back so that it's past the ledge, and I rest my toes against the outside. From my place I can see the Stiff pale even further.

"Initiates, you have first jump."

With that I hop down to stand beside Amar. He nudges my shoulder and grins.

The first jumper is a Dauntless born who hops onto the ledge, only to put his weight forward too quickly and literally fall off the ledge. I roll my eyes and the other Dauntless born begin to laugh. The initiates begin to line up and they jump quickly after that. Amar has them wait after the jumper before them.

The Stiff is the last one to jump, and when Amar gives him a nod, all he does is close his eyes and tilt forward.

We watch him disappear.

"I'm a little surprised he's made it this far," I comment as Amar climbs up onto the ledge.

"I'm not," Tori says. "He's a fighter. I can tell."

"I'll take your word for it then."

I am the last of the members to jump.

* * *

I glance up from my food as Amar walks into the cafeteria with the Stiff. Amar's eyes find mine and he grins so wide it has to hurt. I watch him speak to the initiates a moment, and then he looks up at me.

"Tori! Car!" he calls, and across from me Tori looks up at him. "You two ever hear of anyone with only four fears in their fear landscape?"

Tori and I exchange a look.

"Last record I heard was seven or eight," Tori replies.

"Well I've got an initiate here with only four fears."

I choke on my drink at his words. I cough into my hand as Tori points toward the Stiff. Amar nods and I take a shaky breath before coughing again.

"That's got to be a new record," Tori says.

Amar comes and sits with us after a few more words to the initiates. He thumps my back and grins at us.

"_Four_?" I ask. "Four fears?"

"Watched them all myself," he replies.

"That's incredible," I whisper. "Things might get interesting this year."

Amar grins at me and winks. "We'll certainly see tomorrow, won't we."

I pick up my tray and stand from my seat. "I'm going to turn in early then. I'll see you in the morning, Amar."

"You want to wake them or should I?" he asks with a smirk.

"You two are doing training together?" Tori asks with a furrowed brow.

"Yeah, Amar asked me to help a bit in case a time comes when he won't be doing initiate training," I explain to her. I give him a shrug then. "I'll wake them up."

He nods and I give a small wave as I leave the cafeteria. Tomorrow will be interesting.

* * *

A/N: I do not own Divergent.

Any follows, favorites, or reviews you'd be willing to give this story would be greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading and have a nice day!


	2. Chapter 2

**Caria**

I make my way down the hall with leisure. In my left hand I hold a metal bat and with my right hand I toss a bright red apple into the air. I take a large bite of the apple as I round a corner, resulting in a satisfying crunch and juice dribbling down my chin. Twirling the bat, I come to the end of my walk.

The transfer initiates are all asleep. I finish chewing my bite of apple before taking two long strides into the room. I place the apple to my lips and bite down hard to keep the fruit in my mouth. Breathing through my nose I take a batter's stance and hold the bat up straight in front of me.

Without an ounce of hesitation I swing the bat into the metal frame of the bed in front of me.

The reaction is immediate. Initiates shoot up in shock, one or two even falling from their beds at the noise. I watch them, leaning on the bat like it's a cane and taking another bite from my apple.

"What the fu-"

I interrupt the boy's exclamation by hitting the bed with my bat again. Anger burns in his dark eyes and his nostrils flare.

"Be in the training room by eight," I say. I sweep my eyes over the small group, give a small nod, and then turn on my heel and leave.

I rest the bat on my shoulder and eat my apple as I walk toward the training room.

Amar is already there wiping down punching bags. He grins at me as I walk in, eyes sparkling when he sees the bat. I struggle to smile at him, my mouth full of apple.

"Rude awakening this morning?" he asks.

I snort. "One kid almost cussed me out."

Amar's eyes widen before his face dissolves into a smirk. "How'd you handle that?"

"Swung my bat again," I tell him nonchalantly. "We'll see how he acts during training today."

When I've eaten my apple down to its core I toss it and then begin to stretch my body. Amar is still cleaning equipment and there's still some time left until initiates start showing up so I start a slow jog around the room. I finish two laps by the time Amar gets done and the first initiate shows up.

I'm not surprised to see the first one to arrive is the Stiff. He looks around the room slowly, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. I suppose Abnegation modesty isn't about to change overnight.

Halfway through my third lap the other five initiates join the group, milling around and glancing expectantly at Amar, who says nothing. Rather than finishing the lap I deviate my path and end beside Amar. A sheen of sweat is bright on my skin and my breathing is labored. He gives me a nod and then turns to the initiates.

"Yesterday you faced your fear landscapes," he begins. "You won't be facing them again for a few weeks - granted you last that long. This first stage of training will cover learning how to fight, including hand-to-hand combat, knife throwing, and how to shoot a gun."

The initiates shift and grumble while Amar looks them over.

"Are there any questions?" he asks them.

"What's _she_ doing here?" a dark-haired boy asks immediately. His eyes are on me, and I recognize him as the same boy who yelled at me for waking him up.

"This is Caria. She'll be assisting me with your training," Amar explains.

"Why?"

I snort and smirk. Amar's expression mirrors mine; we exchange a look and he takes a step back.

"You got a problem with me being here, initiate?" I ask.

His nostrils flare again and his eyes narrow. "I just don't see how you'll be able to teach me anything."

The other initiates look quickly between the two of us, shifting uncomfortably. The Stiff in particular looks annoyed and he heaves a sigh.

"You don't think I can teach you anything," I say slowly. I stand to face him fully, feet level with my shoulders, hands on my hip, and head cocked to the side in mock thought. "Why is that?"

"You're a woman," he spits immediately.

Ah. He's a misogynist. Now I understand.

I allow a slow nod and cradle my chin in my hand while I look deliberately around the training room. My eyes land on the raised mat in the middle of the room. I glance at Amar, who smiles and shrugs.

"What's your name, initiate?" I ask.

"Eric."

"_Eric_," I say slowly. I clap my hands together and look around at the initiates with a smile. "Time for your first lesson, everyone. Eric, on the mat."

Eric looks toward Amar, who nods sharply.

I bend down and untie my boots, kicking them off and leaving them to lay, and I strip off my jacket to reveal the razor back tank top beneath it. The initiates whisper as I hoist myself up onto the mat.

Eric joins me, but before he can climb up I snap my fingers and point downward toward the floor. "Lose the shoes, initiate."

He sneers but obliges when Amar gives an approving nod.

He stands across from me on the mat and gets into a rather cramped looking fighting stance.

"First bit of advice is to never underestimate your opponent," I call loudly to the group.

I plant my legs just wider than my shoulders and bend my knees. I hold my arms up and clench my fists in front of my face. Eric charges at me.

I duck beneath the hook he throws my way and as I step behind him I drag my back foot into his ankle, causing him to trip forward. With him off balance I turn so that my back foot becomes my front foot and land a swift jab right between his shoulder blades. He stumbles and I back off so he can get his wits about him.

He comes at me again and this time I catch his punch instead of dodging. In one fluid motion I grip his wrist in both hands and curl in so that my back is to his chest. Shoulder in his armpit, my back leg between his, I lower my center of gravity and put weight on my front leg and throw him over my shoulder and onto his back. He lands with a heavy thud and I back off again.

Eric rolls over onto his stomach and pushes himself back onto his feet as quickly as he can. His eyes are blazing and his breathing is heavy.

"Next piece of advice: if you can help it, don't fight angry."

A snarl rips from Eric's throat and he runs at me again. He goes for a kick to my ribs, which I take in exchange for wrapping an arm around his leg. He tries to move backward and free himself and I use his momentum against him by moving with him and pushing his leg toward him. He stumbles and falls onto his back again.

This time I don't back off.

"If you have an opportunity, take it."

I straddle Eric's chest, planting my knees in his shoulders to keep his upper body down. He thrashes his legs but before he can do much else I land a hard punch to his nose. His head rebounds off the mat and for a moment he's too dazed to move. I punch again.

A bubble of blood forms at his nostril and he gurgles. The panic shows in his eyes and I retreat so he can roll onto his stomach. Blood drips from his nose and lips and he gasps deeply. He glares at me from his place on the floor.

Once I see that he can breathe again I approach quickly and kick him in the ribs. He grunts and tries to push himself back into a standing position but I kick again, putting him back down

"If you find yourself getting kicked while you're down do your best to protect your internal organs."

The third kick is my last. I step back to give Eric room to groan in pain. His arms tremble as he pushes himself up. He stands slowly, wiping his nose on the back of his hand and smearing blood across his face.

The rage is dissolving into uncertainty.

"When you fight each other you'll have the option to concede defeat when you've had too much," I tell the group. Then, speaking directly to Eric, I ask, "Would you like to take advantage of that option?"

The uncertainty disappears at once and he growls as he charges me again. I block his punch with my forearm, kneeing him in the stomach in retaliation. He doubles over and I follow through by bringing my elbow down on the back of his neck. Eric hits the ground and his head bounces off the mat.

"The elbow is your most powerful weapon," I call. "Most of the time in hand-to-hand combat you'll be using various punches and kicks, but if you have the chance to use your knees or your elbows _do_ it."

I glance at Eric on the floor and realize he hasn't moved. Cursing under my breath I lean over him, placing two fingers to his neck. His pulse is fine and I move my hand to gauge his breathing. Standing straight, I rub the back of my neck and sigh.

"Does anyone else have a problem with Caria assisting me?" Amar asks.

The initiates shake their heads quickly and stare at Eric with wide eyes.

"Good."

"Did you show them where the infirmary is?" I ask Amar while looking at the backs of my hands.

"No, I didn't."

"Care to take a field trip?"

Amar looks from me to Eric and then to the initiates. "Sure."

We haul Eric's unconscious body up off the floor and carry him toward the infirmary. The initiates follow us. When we enter into the infirmary the attendant looks up in surprise.

His eyes flit from Eric to me and then he sighs.

"Car, what the hell did you do this time?"

I grin.

"This is a transfer initiate," I explain as we're directed to a bed. "I'm not sure if his nose is still bleeding or not but I probably wouldn't recommend putting him on his back at first. Not unless you give him cannula."

"_Honestly_, Car..."

With Eric in the bed being tended to Amar and I step back.

"Initiates, this is Thompson," I introduce. "Unless you wind up in here a lot you probably won't see much of him."

Thompson frowns and says clearly, "Stay on Car's good side and you'll probably see even _less_ of me."

I laugh and settle down on an empty bed. "Thompson's just kidding."

"I'm not."

"I'm gonna get my knuckles cleaned," I tell Amar. "I'll meet you back in the training room in a bit."

Amar nods and leaves with the initiates back to the training room. Once they're gone Thompson turns to me and raises a single eyebrow.

"You gonna tell me what happened?"

I shrug my shoulders and look down at my bloody knuckles. "He said I didn't have anything to teach him because I'm a woman."

"You never could handle a sexist," Thompson whispers.

"Nope." I pop the _p_ in the word and smile at him.

He snorts and shakes his head but I can tell by his shoulders that he's laughing.

"When he wakes up he's gonna be pissed."

"I know."

"There anything you want me to say to him when he comes to?"

I nod. "Tell him he can't come back until you give him a clean bill of health."

Thompson snorts and leaves Eric's bedside, his examination finished. He throws his latex gloves into the trash and snaps on a new pair while gathering cotton balls, hydrogen peroxide, and bandages. He sets these supplies on a small tray table beside me and then wets a washcloth in the sink. When he comes back he takes my hands and gently cleans the blood away. Then he soaks a cotton ball in hydrogen peroxide and dabs at the split skin.

"This takes me back," I whisper when he finishes with the cotton balls. He hums while he bandages my knuckles. Once he's done he goes about cleaning up his supplies.

"No kiss to make it feel better?" I ask with a cheeky grin.

Thompson gives me an unamused look and states, "That's a placebo."

I laugh and stand from the bed. As I leave I hear Thompson call from behind me, "Don't get in anymore fights today!"

"No promises!" I call over my shoulder.

Smile on my face, I head back to the training room.

* * *

A/N: I do not own Divergent.

If you enjoyed don't be afraid to follow, favorite, or review! Thanks for reading and have a nice day!


	3. Chapter 3

**Caria**

Halfway between lunch and dinner Eric walks into the training room, his eyes ablaze. His face is bruised and swollen, especially the area around the bridge of his nose. He actually doesn't look half bad, considering the beating he took.

I am helping the Amity transfer, Mia, when I notice Eric coming my way. His fists are clenched at his sides and his lips are twisted in an unattractive scowl. I meet his gaze and then very pointedly go back to helping Mia with her form.

"When you punch using a cross you'll want to twist your back foot," I tell her. "If you put too much follow through into your punch you'll lose your balance, though. Remember that."

Mia nods and I watch her practice the move on a punching bag. Once satisfied, I pat her on the back and turn my attention to Eric.

He stands stock still, arms crossed over his chest. His head is lowered and he looks up at me through his lashes. I place my hands on my hips and raise a brow at him.

He looks away, still scowling. Eric mumbles something so quiet that I actually lean forward to try to hear him.

"What was that?"

"Will you help me go over what I missed?" His eyes do not meet mine. His jaw is tight; teeth grinding together.

"Ask Amar," I respond.

"I don't-" Eric looks up at me. He practically spits the words out. "I don't _want_ Amar."

"Uh huh. And is that supposed to make me feel special or something?"

"Look-" He stops himself.

I watch him try to regulate his breathing. He holds his hands at his sides, clenching and unclenching his fists. As he struggles to get his thoughts together I go ahead and look around the room.

Mia is still practicing her cross. The bag doesn't swing much but she twists her foot with each punch. The Stiff, who is apparently going by Four now, is working on a jab-cross combo. The bag sways with each hit and he steadies it before he continues. The female Candor transfer punches without much direction while the two male Candor transfers ridicule her for it.

I am about to step between the Candors when Eric completes his thought.

"Please..." His nose scrunches at the word but he continues. "Please help me go over what I missed."

I raise an eyebrow. He's clearly trying to act humble to get on my good side. I purse my lips and look away from him.

"Meet me here after dinner. We'll go over what you missed."

Eric nods quickly. His face twists in confusion when I move to walk past him.

"What should I do right now?" he asks.

"Run laps."

"How many?"

I stop and turn on my heel to face him. "You're going to run laps until either your legs give out or we break for dinner."

He opens his mouth to protest but I don't stick around to hear what he has to say. Instead I break up the Candor initiates and then step back to observe the room with Amar.

* * *

"Boys are dumb," I announce as I sit across from Amar.

He looks up and raises a brow. "What was that?"

I wrinkle my nose and scowl.

"What happened?"

"Eric wants me to help him with what he missed," I explain.

"And boys are dumb because...?"

"Because I beat the shit out of him. Why would he want my help instead of yours?"

Amar looks away from me and across the room toward where Eric is sitting. He frowns in thought while I bite into an apple.

"Maybe he liked being beaten up," he offers.

I choke on my apple.

"Maybe that's why he joined Dauntless," Amar continues with a growing smirk. "Maybe he just wants to get beaten up by pretty ladies all day."

"You're ridiculous."

"And you agreed to help him."

I roll my eyes and look away. Amar's smirk widens.

* * *

Eric is waiting by the doorway when I approach the training room. He looks up at me and follows me into the room.

"Most of what we did today was basic fighting moves," I tell him while approaching the punching bags.

"Alright."

"You're going to want your feet a little wider than your shoulders." I give him an expectant look so that he starts getting into position. "Bend your knees... Fists in front of you- no not so close. Hold them a little further from your body than that. ... That should be good for now."

"Is this how you were standing?" he asks.

I raise an eyebrow. "Pretty close, yeah. Now let's go over punches."

I go over jabs first, then crosses. Before I can bring up hooks Eric interrupts by saying, "You said the elbow was the strongest point of the body."

"It is. We're not doing elbow strikes right now. Now a hook is a punch from the side like this." I demonstrate the move and then sit back to observe.

After I go over how to perform an uppercut we move on to kicks. In truth, that's all we went over during training, so when Eric looks expectantly at me for a new move I just nod. His brows furrow.

"What's next?" he demands.

"Nothing. That's what we went over today."

"So I'm done then," he remarks.

"Nope. You're done when I say you're done," I reply.

"But now I know everything I missed."

"Knowledge is not the same as experience, _Erudite_," I spit. "You know the moves now. Practice them until I say to stop."

Anger passes over his features and he goes back to the punching bag.

"Don't fight angry. You get angry, you stop thinking, you lose your fight. Keep it together."

His lips tighten but he says nothing.

The room is filled with the sound of Eric punching the bag. It's a quiet sound. His breathing covers it almost entirely.

I watch him punch and kick the bag for hours. His cheeks flush, his breathing stutters, and sweat pours down his face and neck. His Dauntless black clothes stick to his soft body. There's a crease in his brow but he doesn't complain.

"Stop."

He glances at me with half lidded eyes. His shoulders slump and he moves slowly toward the door.

"Hold on a second," I call after him.

Eric sways in place as I catch up to him.

"Come on. Let's stop by the infirmary."

"Why?" he grumbles in annoyance.

I take hold of his hand and lift it to eye level. His knuckles are split and smeared with blood. He wrenches his hand from my grip and stumbles backward.

"I'll bandage them for you," I tell him.

"They're fine."

"Listen, initiate. I know you're tired and you think you're being tough but injuries are serious. Let me bandage your hands."

Eric eyes me suspiciously. He sighs and then shrugs. "Fine."

We walk to the infirmary in silence.

Thompson looks up as we walks in and I can see his frown deepen.

"What now?" he asks as he looks between Eric and me.

"Initiate was making up the training he missed," I explain while gesturing for Eric to sit down on an empty bed.

"Uh huh... And what are you doing _here_, Car?" Thompson persists. "He doesn't live here, you know."

I snort and gather supplies, Thompson following me with his eyes.

"I'm just bandaging him up. Stop being so paranoid," I tease.

"Stop making me paranoid," he shoots back.

I grin and start cleaning the blood from Eric's knuckles with a damp cloth.

"Are you actually qualified to do this?" he grumbles. He hisses quietly when I dab at his split skin with a cotton ball soaked in hydrogen peroxide.

Thompson snorts loudly from where he sits filling out paperwork. Eric glances up at him, scowling.

"I work in the infirmary," I tell him. "So I'd say so."

I glance up from his hands to see an embarrassed flush crawling up his neck.

"Is that-" He clears his throat and glances toward Thompson. "Is that how you met?"

"Thompson and I transferred the same year. We met on the train."

I wrap bandages around his knuckles.

"Where did you transfer from?" It is his first question that sounds genuinely curious.

I finish with his hands and start gathering up the used supplies. Eric watches me expectantly. He sits quietly while I dispose of garbage and wash my hands. I glance back at him with a raised brow.

"You have an early morning, initiate. Get to bed."

His brows furrow. "But-"

"And you might want to shower, too. You aren't going to want to get out of bed in the morning," I point out.

Eric frowns and glances toward Thompson, who ignores him in favor of signing something. With an annoyed huff Eric finally takes his leave.

I sigh and rub my eyes.

"He was pissed when he woke up," Thompson tells me without looking up.

"I knew he would be."

"So why did you show him what he missed?" he asks, setting down his pen and leaning back in his chair.

"He asked me to."

Thompson throws his head back and laughs. I watch him, unamused, until he stops. He makes a show of wiping mirthful tears from his eyes.

"What?" I snap.

"Are you kidding?" His eyes glitter with laughter.

I cross my arms over my chest and scowl.

"Car..."

"_What_?"

Thompson shakes his head slowly. "I'm gonna let you figure it out on your own."

I roll my eyes and throw up my hands. "Whatever. I'm going to bed."

"Sleep tight," he calls. "Don't let the initiates bite."

I stuff my hands in my pockets and head for my apartment. My head hurts and I need a bath.

I shove open the door of my apartment, kicking the door closed behind me. I make a beeline for the bathroom and start running water in the tub. I open the medicine cabinet above the sink, eyes scanning bottles until I find migraine medication. I shake two tablets out into my hand and put the bottle away, tossing the pills into my mouth and swallowing them dry. They stick in my throat and I lean into the sink to drink from the faucet.

The tub isn't even halfway filled when I strip my clothes and lower myself into the water. My muscles begin to relax and I rest my head against the lip of the tub. This is the longest day I've had in a while.

I turn the water off and sink down. Steam rises around me, filling the entire bathroom with warmth. Once I've washed off the sweat and filth that's accumulated over the day I step out of the tub, pull a plug to let the water drain, and wrap a towel around myself.

Once I've dried off enough I crawl into bed, glad the day is finally over.

* * *

A/N: I do not own Divergent.

Any favorites, follows, or reviews you'd be willing to give this story would be greatly appreciated! Also, I'd love to hear any speculation as to which faction you think Caria came from. I've already made the decision and such, but I'd still love to hear where you think she originated from!

Alice (Guest): Thank you so much for your review! At this point Caria's age isn't definite, but I imagine her being somewhere between 19-21.


	4. Chapter 4

**Caria**

When I wake up I'm not alone in my bed. Amar smiles from beside me and I grab my pillow and hit him across the face with it. He laughs brightly.

"What are you doing here?" I grumble, my voice thick with sleep.

"Thought I should let you know you don't have to show up to the first part of training today. We're going to start learning to throw knives," he explains.

I groan loudly and roll over.

"So you're gonna go back to sleep then?"

I nod into my pillow.

"I'll see you at lunch, then."

He places a warm hand on my bare shoulder and I feel the bed shift as he gets up and leaves.

I sleep in until around ten o' clock. By eleven I'm showered, dressed, made up, and out the door. The walk to the Pit is quiet and the tattoo parlor is nearly empty when I walk in. My eyes search the artwork on the walls while I wait.

"Here for a new one?"

I glance over my shoulder and an easy smile spreads on my lips at the sight of Tori.

"Touch up," I tell her. I hold a hand over my right ribs. "This one looked a bit too faded for my liking."

"Shouldn't you be with the initiates right now?" she asks as she prepares her needle.

"They're learning to throw knives right now," I explain while taking off my jacket and t-shirt.

"It's not like you can't throw knives," she murmurs while disinfecting the chair.

"My problem isn't throwing knives, though. My problem is being left handed."

Tori laughs, her eyes crinkling. "Yeah, I don't think you showing anyone how to throw a knife would do them any good."

"Nope," I reply, popping the _p_.

"Are any of the initiates southpaws?" she asks.

"No," I answer, settling myself in the chair and laying back. "I would've noticed if there were any lefties."

"It's like you have tunnel vision," she agreed.

"We're few in number so it's exciting when we see one of our own."

Tori chuckles and the gun begins to buzz.

The sting of the needle drives a chill through my body. Goosebumps raise on my bare skin and I feel my nipples go hard. I move my hands carefully to my chest, close my eyes, and relax. The parlor is quiet except for the buzzing of the tattoo gun as Tori works. Occasionally the buzzing stops long enough for Tori to wipe off any blood and then continues.

Tori finishes in a little more than an hour. She rubs ointment on the area of the tattoo and then places a piece of saran wrap over top of it. As she sanitizes her gun and puts her equipment away I stand slowly and make my way in front of a mirror.

"That looks much better," I tell her, fingers hovering over my ribs. "I mean, it looks terrifying, but a good terrifying."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Tori replies as she comes up to stand behind me. We study the tattoo together.

"Still one of my favorite tattoos I've ever done," she tells me. She glows with pride.

I grin at her. "Want to come to lunch with me?"

"Sure, let me just wash my hands."

I continue to examine my newly touched up skin. The skin is red and partially raised but it still looks good. This tattoo on my rib is one of the only ones I have that corresponds to one of the fears in my landscape.

The tattoo covers most of the space from just under my right breast to the bottom of my right ribs. Tori is incredibly skilled and she's made it look like my skin has been torn away to reveal large honeycombs underneath. Golden honey gleams inside me instead of blood.

The fear of holes is called trypophobia and, according to one of my friends who reviews fear landscapes, is quite common.

"Are you gonna put your shirt back on?" Tori asks as she passes me on her way toward the door.

I follow after her with my shirt and jacket hanging on my arm.

Amar looks up at us as we approach him. His eyes go to me and then my exposed tattoo and I see him visibly dry heave.

"Put your holes away, woman!" he exclaims, covering his eyes and ducking his head.

I laugh and sit down across from him. "You don't think the initiates will like it?"

"I think at least one of them will have a panic attack," he replies with a glare.

I shrug and bite into an apple.

"You realize," he continues, "that I completely forget about this kind of shit until you show up somewhere shirtless?"

"How often do I show up to places shirtless?"

"Often enough."

"How was knife throwing?"

Amar pauses in his disgust and a grin spreads on his face. I raise a brow.

"I had someone throwing bull's eyes within the first hour."

I choke on my apple. Through my coughing I manage to ask, "_Who_?"

Amar chews a bite of his burger and holds up four fingers.

"The Stiff-"

"Four."

"- is already throwing bull's eyes?"

Amar nods proudly.

"Is anyone else even close?"

"A couple others were pretty close by the time we broke for food," he answers with a shrug.

"Still... usually no one hits bull's eyes consistently until at least the second day," I mutter.

Beside me, Tori smirks. "I told you the kid was a fighter."

* * *

"Is that a honeycomb?" Mia asks as I come to stand beside her. She is struggling to shoot her handgun without being thrown by the recoil. "On your ribs, I mean."

"You should be more worried about your shooting," I reply. "But yes. It is."

"I like it," she whispers, the words barely swallowed up by the bang of her firing.

"Your feet need to be wider and you're too tense through your shoulders."

She nods and makes the adjustments before shooting again. The bullet punches a hole through the outside ring of the target and she manages to stay steady. A bright smile splits her face at her improvement.

"Keep at it," I tell her. "Outside circle is okay but I know you can do better than that."

I move to one of the Candor boys, I'm pretty sure his name is Kyler, and watch him shoot. He consistently hits the outer circle.

"You need to be correcting yourself after each shot," I say as he reloads. "Your problem isn't with your shooting it's with your aiming."

He nods and I stay for another couple shots to make sure he isn't ignoring my directions.

Next is Four, who is reloading when I walk up. I glance from him to his target and back, then stop to do a double take. Bullet holes are clustered around the center of the target and the inside circle.

"Bull's eyes," I whisper.

I watch Four spread his legs and raise his gun. He holds it as if it is already an extension of himself. He exhales a slow breath and then _squeezes_ the trigger. Four doesn't flinch at the sound of the gun going off like some of the other initiates have been doing. He checks the location of his bullet and corrects himself within the span of a second before firing again. He empties the magazine and looks over at me expectantly.

"You, uh..." I shake my head at him. "You're a natural."

A small smile appears on his face. "Thank you."

I nod and move to walk passed him.

"Are we going to be fighting each other?" he asks suddenly, making me pause. "Amar didn't say if we were or not."

"Yeah, probably starting tomorrow, actually," I reply.

He nods to himself and raises his weapon.

The Candor girl, Sarah, is next in line but Amar is already correcting her shooting. I nudge him with my elbow and move on to the other Candor boy whose name is Jason. He barely even glances at me as he continues his shooting.

"Stand straighter. And make sure you _squeeze_ the trigger. Don't pull it."

He grumbles quietly but straightens his back.

Eric is the last in line. I watch his bullets hit around the middle circle.

"You're too tense," I point out.

He purses his lips and sends me a glare while reloading his gun. He goes back to shooting.

"You're still too tense."

Eric scowls, his jaw working as he grinds his teeth together. I roll my eyes and shake my head. If he doesn't want to take my advice then I'm not going to stick around.

I move back up and down the row, pausing a little longer than necessary to watch Four shoot, until we end the day of training and break for dinner.

Before any of the initiates are out the door Amar calls to them, "You'll be fighting each other tomorrow, so be sure to get plenty of rest."

When a few initiates grimace Amar and I look at each other and exchange grins. Tomorrow will likely be very interesting considering there's an Abnegation transfer and an Amity transfer. Both factions are more anti-violence than any of the others, so it's always interesting to see the transfer's first fight.

Amar wraps an arm around my shoulders and we head for dinner.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! And thanks for all the follows, favorites, and reviews! They really mean a lot considering this story is only one chapter 4. At least two people (RiverRunsDeep and thaliatheawesome) asked for more Four, so there's a little interaction with him this chapter. There's likely to be more in the next.

Last chapter I asked what faction you thought Caria transferred from and so far there's one guess for Erudite, one for Abnegation, and one for Amity. Keep the guesses coming!

Also, if anyone was wondering, I'm pretty sure the theme song for this story is Novocaine by Fall Out Boy. It just seems to fit.

Thanks again for reading and remember that any follows, favorites, or reviews you're willing to give this story are greatly appreciated! Have a nice day!


	5. Chapter 5

**Caria**

I'm the first one in the training room in the morning so I take the time to wipe down the punching bags and clean the mats. Once finished I stretch and start jogging around the room. I'm about three laps in when Four joins me.

"You don't have to jog with me," I tell him.

"I know," he answers. "But it's better than standing around doing nothing."

We get two laps in before other people start showing up. I'm a little surprised Amar is not among them. I strip my jacket while we head for the center of the room toward the other initiates.

"No Amar yet?" I ask aloud. Mia looks around and shrugs her shoulders and I mimic her movements. "Well, I guess we'll just start without him then."

I can't help but smirk in Four's direction. "Start off with five laps. Let's go."

They start off around the room and Four catches my eye, the tiniest of smiles on his face. While they jog I write down the pairings for the fights. They won't actually fight until after lunch, but it'll be good for them to be thinking about who they'll be going up against.

Amar approaches while the initiates are running their laps. He throws an arm around my shoulder and buries his face in the crook of my neck while letting out a loud, exhausted sigh.

"Long night?" I ask as I finish writing the last pair.

He groans and pulls away from me.

For the first part of training we review punches and kick using the punching bags. Amar and I really don't do much other than give small pointers. When we meet back up after lunch all the initiates are tense.

"First fight is Eric and Four," I call out. "Lose your shoes and get up on the mat."

As they unlace their boots Amar explains the rules. "Fight to defeat your opponent. Nothing is out of bounds. You're allowed to concede defeat, otherwise you fight until one of you is unconscious."

Four and Eric circle each other for about a minute and a half before I get tired of watching them.

"If neither of you want to fight that's fine. You can both take zeroes on your rankings for today," I tell them.

They rush each other at the same time, somewhat evenly matched. Four is faster, though, and it seems like he has a higher tolerance for pain, because he hardly even flinches when Eric punches him. For a moment or two it seems like the fight is in Eric's favor - he's landing more hits than Four is - but the momentum shifts immediately when Four knocks Eric's feet out from under him.

The two hit the ground, Four on top and absolutely dominating. His knees are dug into Eric's shoulders to keep him down, and I can't help but smirk, knowing that it's the same way I pinned Eric. Four punches downward into Eric's face, undeterred by the way he's thrashing under him. Blood spatters across the mat until Eric hits the mat with his open hand furiously.

Four gets to his feet, holding a sleeved wrist to his bleeding lip. He offers his other hand to Eric, who struggles to get his wits about him. The other boy is having none of it, however, and he slaps Four's hand away and stands on his own. Not particularly gracefully, might I add.

"Can you see?" I ask as he stumbles off of the mat.

"I'm fine," he spits.

"Bullshit you are. Have Thompson check you out and get you some painkillers and then get back here," I order.

Eric's dark eyes blaze but he goes after deliberately spitting blood in my direction.

Kyler and Sarah fight next. He moves first, aiming a punch at her face. She twists so that the blow glances off her cheek and then moves close and lands a series of quick punches to his ribs. He wheezes and moves away from her, but she follows, relentless.

"Did you teach her that?" I whisper to Amar, who simply smiles and lifts his chin.

Sarah is smaller than Kyler, and her punches don't have a lot of power to them. It'll take more hits for her to do the same damage that he could do in one, so her rapid fire approach works for her. Up to a point, at least.

Kyler wraps his arms around her to pin her arms to her side, and he lifts her. She kicks wildly but doesn't land anything. He shifts his hold on her so that he can grab the length of her ponytail and wrench her head back, and when he does he swings his head forward and into hers. The impact makes her entire body slump immediately.

He glances toward Amar and me, looking for direction. Amar nods and gestures for Kyler to step off the mat.

"Nice turn around," I tell him as he lays Sarah down on the floor.

"Thanks," he says quietly, his face flushing with pride.

"Go to the bathroom and wet a towel down with cold water. We'll see how she feels when she wakes up," Amar commands, and Kyler nods before leaving.

That leaves Mia and Jason.

I'd love to see Mia bite and claw her way to victory, but that's now what happens. Instead, Jason goes much the same route as Four did. He gets Mia onto the ground and begins pounding her face into the mat. She struggles beneath him, but to no avail.

I chew my lip as I watch her bleed onto the mat. After a moment, Jason stands up, his breathing heavy. Mia rolls slowly onto her stomach and then struggles to push herself up. Jason cocks his fist back and slugs her in the jaw. Something shoots from between her lips and bounces across the mat and she collapses.

I walk around and pick Mia's tooth up off the floor and hold it in the palm of my hand. It is small and slick with blood.

"Four, will you help Mia to the infirmary, please."

He nods and helps her stand up as she comes to. She stumbles on her feet and blood drips down her chin. I pocket her tooth and move back to stand beside Amar.

The room is filled with a tense silence.

Amar claps his hands together and smiles brightly. "Let's throw some knives!"

* * *

"The initiates are talking," Amar says as he sits down across from me with his food.

"Are they?" I ask, not looking up from my hamburger.

"About you," he clarifies.

"What? Am I too much of a hard ass?"

"The opposite, actually."

I set my food down and sit back so I can give him a pointed look. He finishes chewing his food and nods.

"And...?"

"Turns out you're showing favoritism," he remarks.

I snort and grin. "_What_?"

"That's what they're saying," he hums.

"I'm not favoring anyone," I say incredulously.

He shrugs and continues eating.

"Who do they think I'm showing favoritism to?"

"Do you really want to know?" he grumbles through his bite of food.

"Of course I want to know!"

"Mia."

I squint at him for a moment, but when what he's said finally sinks in I begin to laugh. "That's ridiculous!"

Amar shrugs again and continues to eat. I shake my head in disbelief and run a hand through my hair.

I hit the infirmary on my way back to my apartment, and Thompson looks up from changing the sheets on one of the beds.

"You sent three initiates my way today," he says.

"They did that to themselves," I reply while making my way to the medicine cabinet.

"One of them lost a tooth."

"Yeah, it's in my pocket."

"And why's that?"

"Seemed like the thing to do."

I rifle through the bottles until I find Valium and I shake two pills into my palm.

"Those aren't for you," Thompson murmurs in my ear. He rests his hands on my hips and buries his nose in my neck.

I dry swallow the pills and press my back against his chest.

"It's been quiet without you around here," he says. He rests his chin on top of my head and sighs.

"I'm keeping you busy whether I'm here or not," I grumble.

He hums. "Not quite the same."

I shrug against him. "At least you're not bored."

"I suppose there's that."

"It's time for me to sleep."

"Sleep with me."

"Not tonight."

Thompson steps away from me and runs a hand over his head. "Are you sleeping with Amar?"

"What?"

"Are you sleeping with Amar?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Thompson."

"_Are you_?"

"No," I snap. "I'm not."

He scowls and huffs loudly, refusing to make eye contact with me.

I leave without another word, anger fueling my walk to my apartment and my bathtub.

* * *

A/N: I do not own Divergent.

Sorry for the wait on this chapter and thank you guys so much for the follows, favorites, and reviews! I really appreciate it! Also, I'm thinking about raising the rating on this story to M due to potential events in future chapters. Please let me know if you think I should. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Explicit Content**

**Caria**

Thompson's hand settles on my leg, his dark skin in contrast with mine. His fingers ghost up my body, from my calf to my thigh, up my hip and across my stomach, between my breasts to my collar bone. He cups my face in his hand and lowers his lips to mine. My eyes close, and when they open it is Amar who is above me.

Amar's hand moves from my jaw to my neck and travels the center of my body before settling between my legs. My back arches off the bed and Amar's lips go to my neck. My head falls back and I exhale softly.

It is Mia who kisses across my shoulders and down my chest to my stomach. Her hair tickles my skin as she brings herself back up my body to kiss my lips. My eyelids flutter.

Teeth bite into my lower lip and it's Eric's tongue in my mouth. His rough hands part my thighs, his hips settle against mine, and he thrusts home.

I wake in a cold sweat and tangled in my sheets. I hoist myself up and free myself from my blankets. I flick the light on in the kitchen and pause at the sink, contemplating whether I want a glass of water or whiskey. I settle on water, and run a hand through my sweat dampened hair as I drink.

Instead of going back to bed I take a long shower and get dressed. The training room is empty when I arrive, which makes sense considering it's around four in the morning, and I lay into a punching bag until my knuckles are bleeding and bruised. Closer to six I think about hitting the infirmary to get my hands cleaned, but I don't really want to run into Thompson. Not after last night.

I grab food in the cafeteria and settle down at an empty table. The room is quiet as people around me eat their breakfast. I eat slowly, chewing on cold toast and taking an occasional bite of my apple until Amar settles down across from me.

"Haven't seen you down here for breakfast in a while," he comments while shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth.

"I had a weird dream," I reply.

He raises his eyebrow wordlessly, waiting for me to elaborate.

"It was a sex dream."

His brows raise even higher on his forehead.

"You were there," I tell him with a small smirk.

He laughs until he chokes, and when he gets enough breath in his lungs he coughs out, "How was I?"

My smirk widens. "Like you'd never pleasured a woman in your life."

Amar laughs so hard that tears gather in the corners of his eyes.

"Thompson accused me of sleeping with you."

His laughter cuts off almost immediately. "_What_?"

I bite into my apple and shrug.

"But that's..."

"Ridiculous. I know."

He exhales loudly through his nose and shakes his head.

"It is what it is," I grumble. I flex my fingers, the skin of my knuckles stretching and the dried blood cracking. "But I'm probably gonna steer clear of the infirmary for a bit."

* * *

"Your form looks a lot better today," I tell Eric as he reloads his gun.

He's hitting easy bull's eyes. The tension in his shoulders is gone, his back is straight, his feet are shoulder length apart, and he squeezes the trigger like he should. There are also brand new black studs in his ears.

The only person who's not consistently hitting the center of the target is Mia. I can't tell if it's because something is off about her stance or if pain killers are throwing off her coordination.

"What did Thompson give you for the pain?" I ask her.

Her jaw is swollen and she looks absolutely miserable.

"I didn't take anything," she grumbles. "In Amity we don't put anything unnatural into our bodies."

"This isn't Amity."

She scowls at the target and continues shooting.

"You're certainly not required to take pain medication, but looking at your shooting right now I'd say you should consider letting go of that Amity ideal of yours."

I can see tears prickle at the corner of her eyes and her cheeks flush a bright red.

"You're going to have to eventually. Better sooner than later."

She sniffles and tries to discreetly rub her eyes with her arm.

After lunch the initiates fight again.

Sarah and Mia fight first, and Sarah takes advantage of the Amity transfer already being in intense pain. A single punch to Mia's already sore jaw and she collapses into pained sobs and concedes the fight. Sarah at least helps her to her feet and then shoots a look in my direction.

"Do you want me to take her to the infirmary?" she asks.

I shrug. "That's up to her."

Mia nods, tears streaking her face. She has a hand covering her mouth, and I can only assume that her gums are bleeding.

"That was kind of cold," Amar murmurs.

"Maybe now she'll actually take something for her pain. She got a _tooth_ knocked out."

Four goes up against Kyler and wins with ease. I almost feel bad for Kyler with how quickly he gets knocked out.

The final fight is Eric and Jason. Eric takes a single punch to his ribs before hitting Jason right in the nose. The blow makes him stumble backward, and Eric takes the opportunity to kick his feet out from under him. He straddles Jason's chest and presses his forearm into the boy's throat. Jason kicks weakly beneath him, but proves too stubborn to tap out. Instead, he struggles until his body simply goes limp beneath Eric.

He stands up and runs a hand down the length of his face.

After a short rest that allows time for Kyler and Jason to come to, and for Sarah and Mia to return from the infirmary, the initiates gather in a half circle to await directions.

"We're gonna go for a run around the compound," I tell them. "How long it takes will depend on you. It's possible for you to finish quickly and get out of training early today, and it's also possible it takes you a longer time and you get to dinner late."

"Who's setting the pace?" Four asks.

"Amar and I will set the pace," I answer. "But if you feel you can't keep up with us then you can slow down. Just be sure to keep at least one person in your line of sight."

He nods and I glance between the rest of the initiates. Kyler and Jason look like they might be a little dizzy, and Mia's eyes look unfocused. Whether from medication or pain I can't tell.

We start out at a leisurely jog, and I can hear Eric complain behind us that we're going to be the reason he's late for dinner. I shoot a smirk in Amar's direction, and he grins back at me. Once we've warmed up enough we steadily increase the pace until we're in a full run.

By the time we stop for our first water break Jason has dropped back quite a ways. He catches up just as we're getting ready to continue.

"Get a drink of water," I tell him. "It's important to stay hydrated."

He nods and takes big gasping breaths.

When we take our second break Kyler is just as behind as Jason, and neither of them catch up to the group by the time we start running again. In the end, the only ones who are able to keep pace with Amar and me are Four, Eric, and Sarah. Mia falls behind about halfway through the last leg of the run and throws up, but even so she beats Kyler and Jason back to the training room.

When she stumbles passed me on her way to dinner I catch her arm. She frowns at me, but nods when I tell her to drink plenty of water.

Kyler and Jason are half an hour late to dinner, and I make a point to tell them to stop by and see Thompson once they're done eating.

I strip off my extra layers of clothes as I sit down beside Tori, already imagining how incredible a bath will feel when I get back to my apartment.

"You smell awful," she comments once I begin to eat.

"We ran today," I tell her through my bite of dinner roll. "I was sweating a lot."

Her nose wrinkles but she doesn't comment further.

"Did Caria tell you she had a sex dream about me?" Amar asks Tori cheekily.

I scowl at him, but the wide grin on his face doesn't even falter.

"No, she didn't," Tori answers, looking at me sideways. Her smile turns teasing. "I'm jealous."

I roll my eyes and mutter, "You guys are the worst."

"Maybe you should get Amar's name tattooed on your ass," she says nonchalantly.

I choke on my bread and dissolve into a coughing fit, but Amar's laughter overshadows me completely. He waves a hand in front of him and gasps out that he can't breathe. I give him a hard kick underneath the table but it just makes him laugh harder.

After another minute or two he finally wipes the mirthful tears from his eyes and sighs.

"Speaking of ass tattoos," he starts.

I cut him off quickly. "What, did you get one?"

He scoffs. "Tori would never let me do something like that."

"True," Tori says simply.

"Anyway, we should get drunk tonight," he says with finality.

I snort and Tori raises a single eyebrow.

"Why would I want to get drunk tonight? We're shooting tomorrow," I remind him.

"You got drunk the night before the Choosing Ceremony," he points out.

I open my mouth to argue and realize I don't really have anything to say to him. I snap my mouth shut and look down at my plate so I don't have to look at his smug face.

"What about you, Tori?" he asks brightly.

"Sorry, I've got the night shift," she answers. "You two have fun, though."

"Looks like it's just you and me, Car," he announces, and I can actually hear the smile in his voice.

"I'm going home and showering first," I tell him. "Tori already pointed out how bad I smell."

He nods. "I'll see you in the Pit."

I sigh. "In the Pit."

* * *

A/N: I do not own Divergent.

Thank you all so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews! Now, as you may have noticed this chapter started out with an explicit content warning, which is what I'm going to do if anything sexual happens in the chapter. I've also raised the rating to M. I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!

Thank you for reading, and remember that any favorites, follows, and reviews you're willing to give this story are greatly appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

**Explicit Content**

**Caria**

"Whiskey sour, Johnathon. Extra lemon wedge."

Amar slaps his hand against the bar. "No, no. Two shots of tequila."

"I want whiskey-"

"You get mean when you drink whiskey-"

"And I get naked when I drink tequila which is why I-"

"Should drink tequila tonight," Amar finishes, grinning at the bartender, Johnathon.

I scowl as Johnathon slides a shot glass of tequila my way, along with the salt shaker and a bowl of lime wedges.

"You're an ass," I grumble while sprinkling salt onto the back of my hand. In unison we lick the salt from our hands, throw back our shots, and then shove lime wedges into our mouths. I feel my face screw up and I shake my head to try and get the flavor out of my mouth.

We each take two more shots before I can order a whiskey sour without Amar throwing a fit. I take slow sips of my drink while Amar starts on a rum and coke.

"So what made you want to get drunk tonight?" I ask him.

He shrugs and takes another swallow of his drink.

"Bullshit."

Amar licks his lips and frowns in my direction. "You don't think I just wanted to drink?"

"Nope," I answer, kicking my shoes off and finishing my whiskey sour.

He huffs and runs a hand through his hair. "I think I might-"

"Is that Thompson?" I ask, and he follows my line of sight.

Thompson moves awkwardly through a crowd of people dancing and sits down at the end of the bar opposite of Amar and me. He orders a drink and then looks around the room. Our eyes meet for a moment before he sees I'm sitting with Amar. He scowls, shakes his head, and looks away. I can see him clenching and unclenching his fists and I can see his jaw working.

"He's pissed," I whisper at Amar.

"He thinks we're sleeping together," he mutters in response.

I grab onto Amar's arm and haul him to his feet.

"What are you doing?" he hisses as I pull him away from the bar.

"Let's dance."

"Okay, now you're just _trying_ to piss him off."

"Well he shouldn't be so stupid."

I turn and wrap my arms around Amar's neck so that we're flush together. Without my shoes the height difference is incredibly awkward, but I stand up on my toes so that I can bury my nose in his neck. I look over his shoulder at Thompson, who's scowling in our direction.

"Put your hands on my hips," I murmur.

Amar complies but grumbles, "Just don't kiss me."

I snort, which turns into laughter. I stumble back onto the flat of my feet and lean my head against Amar's chest. After a moment he starts to laugh as well, and the two of us have to hold each other up so we don't fall down.

"Why would I kiss you?" I ask while wiping the tears from my eyes.

"I don't _know_," he replies. He pulls me against him and wraps his arms around me. We sway slowly despite the fast paced song and I hear him mutter, "I don't like when you use me to make people jealous."

I pull away and look up at him. The hurt look on his face makes me start to blubber. "I'm- I'm sorry, Amar."

He grabs my face in his hands and shakes my head back and forth until I start to laugh instead. He crouches down and wraps his arms around my thighs and lifts me up into the air. I steady myself with a hand on the top of his head, and I hear him say "Let's get you another drink," before he heads back in the direction of the bar.

Amar orders another two shots of tequila, and before we knock them back he nods over his shoulder toward Thompson and tells me, "Don't let him bother you tonight."

I nod and clink my glass against his.

* * *

**Eric**

The hallway is empty, which is good because it's long past curfew. I rub a thumb over my knuckles to clear away some dried blood, only to break the skin open and cause new blood to well up. I sigh and stuff my knuckle in my mouth to slow the bleeding. I round a corner and freeze up when I hear voices. I have no idea what the punishment is for being out after curfew, and I also don't want to stick around to find out.

I turn around to go the other way when I hear: "Hey. Isn't that an initiate?"

"Hold up, initiate!"

I clench my fists and taste new blood on my tongue. I turn back around slowly, and the sight coming toward me makes me think I might be hallucinating.

Amar's face is flushed, his hair is disheveled, and in his hand is a pair of red high heels and what looks like a shirt. There's no question as to why he's holding them, either, because next to him is a barefoot, shirtless Caria. Her brows furrow and she nudges Amar to ask, "Is that Eric?"

Amar waves me over and tries to look intimidating, but he sways slightly on his feet and Caria has to steady him.

"What are you doing out, initiate?" he asks, but he slurs the word 'initiate' and Caria snorts and tries to hide her grin behind her hand. Amar tries to stop the smile spreading on his face. He elbows Caria, and she stumbles into the wall and starts to laugh. It breaks the facade completely and Amar doubles over with laughter.

"Why are you-" Caria breathes deeply and straightens up. "Why are you here, initiate?"

I consider lying and then think better of it. "I was in the training room."

She squints at me and pushes herself off the wall. "Why?"

"I was training," I tell her.

"_Why_?" she repeats. She comes to stand directly in front of me and stares up into my face.

I scowl at her question.

"He was _training_, Caria," Amar says from behind her.

She looks back at him and I can't help but quickly look her up and down. She turns back to me and nods. "Okay, gotcha. You were training."

"But he's still out after curfew," Amar reminds her.

"Yeah..."

"I was on my way back-"

"Shhhh," Caria interrupts me and shoves a finger against my lips, nearly into my mouth. "For your punishment I want you..."

A shiver of fear runs through me at the thought of being made Factionless.

"To carry me back to my apartment."

Amar snorts and smothers his grin when Caria turns to glare at him.

"What?" I ask.

"Carry me," she repeats, lifting her arms in the air. "Back to my apartment. I don't wanna walk anymore."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

I sigh in relief.

She stumbles around behind me and wraps her arms around my neck while hoisting one leg up around my thigh. I stumble backwards in surprise and try to correct myself with the added weight. I grab her thigh and pull her upwards. She wraps her other leg around my waist and pushes herself up to settle against me. I can feel her heartbeat against my back and her breath against my neck.

"Amar, lead the way," she calls.

I follow after him.

Amar opens the door of an apartment and waltzes inside, flipping a light on while tossing the shoes and shirt on the ground. He wanders off into what looks like a kitchen and begins filling a glass with water.

"Back there." Caria's voice in my ear makes me tighten my grip on her thighs on reflex.

I find myself in her bedroom and I take the time to look around while walking toward her bed. There's a table by her bed that's cluttered with books and empty glasses, and clothes and shoes litter the floor. A dresser in the corner has unevenly opened drawers and a prickly potted plant on top of it.

I drop Caria backwards onto her bed and move to leave.

"Wait."

I look back at her, and my mouth goes dry when I see that she's unbuttoning her pants.

"Help me," she says and kicks a leg in my direction.

I watch her struggle to push her pants down her hips, and after a moment I grab the ends of her pant legs and pull until she's completely stripped to her underwear. She digs her heels into her mattress and pushes herself up the length of the bed until her head is resting on her pillows and then she relaxes with a sigh.

I don't realize that I've been staring until Amar claps a hand to my shoulder, making me jump. He drinks slowly from a glass of water and studies Caria's body for a moment.

"Help me roll her over," he says quietly. He sets the glass on her bedside table and grabs hold of her shoulder. He nods toward her hips, and I help him roll her over onto her stomach.

Amar directs me back into the living room and out the door.

"Go straight back to your dorm. If anyone else stops you tell them you were helping me," he says.

I nod and he claps me on the back and heads in the opposite direction.

The dorm is quiet except for the sound of the others sleeping. I kick my boots off near my bed, grab a towel, and head for the showers in the back of the room. I turn the water on in a corner stall and strip off the rest of my clothes before stepping into the stream of warming water.

Caria is in my head. I can still feel the warmth of her body against my back and I can see her exposed skin in my mind's eye. I think of her hair up around her head like a halo, the curve of her breasts, the ink in her skin. I think of her legs around my waist and her fingers against my mouth and her breath in my ear. I think of my hands on her and in her and I think of giving her bruises deep enough to rival her tattoos. I think of being so close against her that the sweat on her skin is all I can smell and taste. I think of what it must feel like to be inside her, to fill her, to _fuck_ her until she can't breathe or speak or walk or even _move_.

I come, pretending my hand is hers, and I stand in the shower until I can think straight again.

It takes longer than I would have thought.

* * *

A/N: I do not own Divergent.

Thank you so much for reading! Thank you for the favorites, follows, and reviews (especially inopinion and jheathxos because you guys reviewed, like, every single chapter as you were reading)!

Hope you guys enjoyed, and please let me know what you thought about this chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**Caria**

I wake up on my stomach with a pounding head and my eyes glued shut. I push myself up an inch before flopping back down. I don't want to move. I open my eyes slowly and carefully, mascara from the previous night making my lashes stick. There's a glass of water on my nightstand, and I know there are pain killers in the drawer.

I reach out and pull the drawer open, listening to everything rattle inside before sticking my hand in and feeling around blindly. I feel the ridges of a childproof cap and grab onto it, holding it up so I can see what it is. Rather than a painkillers it's a bottle of brightly colored antacids. I throw the bottle across the room from my position. I don't even _use_ antacids.

I take a minute to get my bearings before pushing myself into a sitting position and physically removing the drawer from its place in the nightstand. I push crumpled papers and pens aside until I find the bottle I want. I unscrew the cap, shake three pills into my hand, and toss them into my mouth. I drain the glass and stand, my vision going in and out for a moment. Once I can see again I head into the bathroom and scrub the make up from my face before showering.

By the time I get down to the training room my head has stopped hurting and I'm fresh enough to fool people into thinking I'm not hungover. Amar raises an eyebrow as I come to stand next to him, chewing on a bite of apple.

When the initiates start shooting at targets all the work the pain pills have done is reversed. I flinch every time a gun goes off, which is often enough that I tell Amar I'm going for a walk. Another round of fights happens after lunch, and I notice for the first time that Eric isn't meeting my eye. It almost makes me laugh out loud.

It's a couple days later when Amar and I take the initiates on a field trip out to the fence. We walk up and down the fence and Amar explains to the initiates that, depending on their score during training, they might end up here. I look out across the horizon, eyes scanning the trees and the dots of yellow and red that are the Amity farmers. I zone out completely, breathing in the fresh air and soaking in the sunshine.

Amar nudges me we herd the initiates back to the train.

"I think I'll go for a run when we get back," I tell him.

We stand at the end of the car opposite the initiates. They talk amongst themselves about the fence and the farms and what working the fence line would be like. Most of them look laidback, but Mia's face is drawn and she's hugging herself.

"Take the initiates with you," he answers. "Looks like they could burn off some steam."

"I could do that. There's so few of them that they'll all be done fighting each other long before the Dauntless born. We gotta find _some_ way to keep them busy until visiting day."

"Yeah, but..." His voice lowers and he leans closer to me. "Remember the field trip tonight."

I grit my teeth and sigh through my nose. "Can't you go without me?"

"Car, it's tradition."

"So?"

"So you're gonna be a team captain tonight and that's that."

I huff and run a hand through my hair.

When we get back to the compound I take the initiates for a run and then head back to my apartment for another shower.

I pull on dark blue pants, a matching long-sleeved shirt, black boots, and a dark gray jacket. I pull my hair back into a tight knot and then do my make up to look as intimidating as possible: black eyeshadow, black eyeliner, black mascara, and dark purple lipstick. I even take the silver studs from my ears, lips, and nose and replace them with black ones.

I give myself a final once over and then leave for the train tracks. Amar is already there with the paintball guns.

"You went all out," he comments as I come to stand in front of him. "What color do you want?"

"Have you got any orange?" I ask him with a grin. He tosses me a box and a gun.

Orange was the color I had when I was an initiate. There are plenty of different colors - pink, blue, red, green, and everything in between, but orange is the brightest and most obnoxious. It's also the hardest to wash out, which makes it all the more enjoyable for me.

Once all the initiates have shown up I call out for them to grab a gun and a box and then we all board the train. Amar hands me a canvas bag, and when I open it I realize it's my team's flag. The material is fluorescent orange and I have to bite back a smile. I sling the bag over my shoulder as Amar begins to talk.

"We'll be dividing you into two teams to play capture the flag," Amar explains to them. "The first team will get off the train first and hide their flag, then the second team will get off and hide their flag. Both teams will be working to get the other team's flag."

He looks around at all the initiates then turns to me. "You want first pick?"

"No, you can have it."

He glances quickly between each initiate before deciding. "Four."

I shrug. "Mia."

"Kyler."

"Eric."

"Sarah."

"Jason."

We divide up the Dauntless born next, which mostly includes vague pointing because I don't know any of their names.

Amar and his team jump first, and after we ride for another minute or two I jump with my team.

"Alright. What's your plan?" I ask them as I pull my box of paintballs from my pocket.

"Shouldn't you be coming up with a plan?" one of the Dauntless born ask. "You're team leader after all."

I snort as I load my gun. "I'm a figurehead here to make sure you don't tear yourselves apart. This is a scored exercise. So figure out where you're gonna hide _our_ flag and how you're gonna get your hands on the other team's flag."

The initiates begin to look around, their eyes scanning the treetops for a place to put the flag.

"What about the end of the pier?" Eric asks suddenly. He points in the direction of what used to be a lake. "There'll be tree cover so no one will be able to see it. Plus the area around the pier is open so we'd be able to ambush anyone who _did_ come for it."

He looks between his fellow initiates and then looks to me. His dark eyes meet mine for only a moment before he looks away again.

"Does anyone have a better idea?" I ask when no one says anything.

Silence.

"Eric's idea it is. Anything else?"

"I think... I think we should have a group here to protect the flag. We could have some people in the treeline," Mia speaks up. "Anywhere else and they'd be sitting ducks."

I nod at her words.

"Another group should scout," a Dauntless born boy says, and once I actually look at him I realize he's the first jumper. "That group could find the flag and take it."

I nod again. "Sounds like a plan. What group wants me."

Mia and the first jumper exchange a look, but before either of them can say anything Eric speaks up.

"I might need someone with me at the pier," he says, not looking at me.

"Fine with me. I have the flag anyway."

The guards and the scouts split up while Eric and I head for the dried out lake.

"How'd you know about the pier anyway?" I ask him as we reach the lakebed.

We slide through the mud and weeds to get underneath the pier, which juts out into what is now mostly marshland. The mud sucks at my boots as we try to find a good slat of wood to hand the flag off of.

"The Erudite headquarters is near here," he grunts as he pulls his own foot free.

"For a second there I forgot you used to be Erudite," I mutter to myself.

He reaches upward and pulls on a slat above us. It is sturdy despite being dry, cracked, and slightly rotten. Eric glances in my direction and extends his hand.

I slide the bag from my shoulder and pull out the bright orange flag so that I can hand it to him. He takes it and stands up on his toes so that he can push the fabric in between the planks until it sticks.

My eyes drift down his arms and chest and stop at his stomach. His shirt has come up enough to reveal a sliver of pale skin. His short time in Dauntless has already started to pay off. There's a hint of abdominal muscle where there used to be just flab. When he lowers his arms his shirt comes back down and my eyes flash up to his face.

Our eyes meet and then he looks away again, shifting almost uncomfortably.

"Why have you been avoiding looking at me?" I ask him.

He flinches and glares at nothing. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Is it because of the other night when I was drunk?"

Eric glances at me and away again, his cheeks turning an angry red.

I roll my eyes. "You act like you've never seen a half naked girl before."

If possible his cheeks get even redder and he hunches his shoulders as if to hide himself.

It is that moment I realize that _yes_, that _was_ the first time Eric had seen a half naked girl.

"Seriously? A third of your dorm mates are girls."

He grumbles something that sounds like bed sheets and turns his glare on me. His dark eyes are blazing and the studs in his ears glitter. I bite my tongue to stop a smirk from spreading on my lips.

We stand in tense silence for a little while longer. I stare out at the lakebed and breathe in the smell of mud. From the corner of my eye I see Eric move and I turn to face him but he's suddenly right in front of me. His hands go to my shoulders and he moves to push me back against the wooden leg behind me. I react without thinking, bringing my gun in front of me and between us. Eric moves like he's going to kiss me and I fire three times into his torso in quick succession - _click click click_.

He stumbles backward, shock evident on his face as he stares down at the bright orange splotches. The smell of fish oil hits my nose and I gape at him.

"What the fu-"

Pain blooms between my shoulder blades and I turn to see who shot me. Amar grins at me and shoots me square in the chest. I move to retaliate and a moment too late I see Four make a run for the flag. I hit Amar in the shoulder, chest, and stomach before turning to see Four with the fluorescent orange flag clenched in his fist.

Amar sidles past me and claps a hand to Four's shoulder, congratulating him. I heave a sigh and strip my paint stained jacket. I'm tired and ready to get some sleep.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for all the favorites, follows, and reviews you've given this story - I really do appreciate it!


	9. Chapter 9

**Caria**

"Did you know that you're not supposed to shoot your teammates?" Amar asks me when I sit across from him. His eyes are sparkling as he shoves scrambled eggs into his mouth. I can see the hint of a bruise under the collar of his shirt from where I shot him.

"Did _you_ know that initiates shouldn't try to kiss their trainers?" I ask in response, a tight smile on my lips.

Amar leans across the table as if to tell me a secret and, completely straight-faced, asks, "Are you really one to talk, Caria?"

I take a bite of my apple and look away from him, my cheeks burning. He's got a point but it's still sort of a low blow. I chew slowly and look around the cafeteria so I don't have to meet Amar's eyes.

"Last night probably saved your Amity girl," he comments when he sees me looking toward the initiate table.

"Yeah? How do you figure?"

"It was her idea to set up a defensive line in the trees. Even though your team lost it was still a good tactic and she managed to take out more than half of the scout party I had with me," he explains, gesturing in her direction with his fork. "She may be lacking in her physical fights but her thinking is sound."

"Her heart is still in Amity," I tell him. "It was obvious when we were coming back from the fence."

"You can't blame the girl for being homesick after being so close to home."

"It's not her home anymore."

Amar purses his lips and looks down at his half-eaten plate. He pushes his eggs around without saying anything and I go back to eating my apple.

"You know," he says quietly, "just because you transitioned quickly doesn't meant that everyone can."

I narrow my eyes at him. "I know that."

"You don't act like you do."

I drop my apple core onto my plate and stand to leave as Amar looks back down at his food. Neither of us say anything as I bus my tray and leave the cafeteria.

No one will be showing up for training for another twenty minutes or so and I stop at the infirmary on my way. Thompson looks up at the opening of the door and his eyebrows raise. He tosses his pen onto the desk and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and giving me an expectant look.

"You. Me. In the ring. Right now."

"I'm working," he answers, though he doesn't move to pick his pen back up.

"Does it look like I care?"

"Get Amar to fight you if you're so desperate," he spits.

My lip curls and I lift my head to look at him down my nose. "I'm already in a bad mood, Thompson. Don't make me say something I'll regret."

He scoffs and eyes me up and down, appraising me. His patronizing look draws the lie from my lips and I can't stop myself.

"Amar is a better fuck than you'll ever be."

Thompson's body language shifts almost immediately. His fists clench, his knuckles turning white from the strain, and his jaw begins to work as he grinds his teeth together. His nostrils flare and his eyes darken and finally he rises to his feet. He strips his white doctor's coat and places it carefully on the desk.

"Let's go."

I smirk at him and lead the way to the training room. Four and Eric are milling around by a punching bag, and both of them look up when Thompson and I take off our shoes and pull ourselves up into the ring. I pull my jacket up over my head and throw it to the floor before turning to face him.

"So you are sleeping with Amar," he says as he raises his fists and widens his feet.

I snort as I adopt the same pose. "What do you think?"

He closes the distance between us with one step and swings a solid punch at my face. I duck under him arm to avoid the hit and step back to put space between us. Thompson turns quickly to face me again.

Thompson has always been easy to rile up. Ever since we were initiates it's been easy to push his buttons and get him mad. On one hand his anger makes him reckless, but on the other hand it makes him hit harder. People tended to underestimate Thompson because of his size - everyone thought he would move slow and struggle to keep up in the ring. That was only an accurate assessment in his first fight because after that he took advantage of his size to crowd his opponent into a corner and beat them senseless.

I dodge out of the way of another punch and try to circle around behind him but he shifts his weight and kicks backward to catch me in the stomach. My breath leaves me in a rush but I curl and clamp my arm around Thompson's leg.

People also tended to underestimate me at the beginning of training. I was on the smaller side and didn't talk much at first so I was seen as a target. It didn't take long for everyone to realize I was feisty and basically looking for a fight. Being left-handed also threw people for a loop. We all learned how to fight but no amount of knowledge prepared them for their fight against me.

Thompson keeps his balance but before he can pull out of my arms or move to hit me I twist his leg. He yells in pain and hits the ground to get out of my grip. Before I can move to jump on him or kick him he lashes out with his good leg and sweeps my feet out from under me.

I land on my shoulder and bite my tongue on impact. Thompson is quick to try and pin me but the moment he straddles my hips and leans over me I spit blood at his face. He recoils immediately and I swing a punch as I sit up. I connect with his mouth and I feel his teeth cut open my knuckles.

He falls back and in the next moment I'm on top of him, knees digging into his shoulders to keep him down. My next punch lands on his temple and his head snaps back against the mat. He tries to throw me off of him and manages to unbalance me enough to get a grip on my thighs. He tosses me to the side and we both get back to our feet.

"What do you think you're doing?" I hear Amar ask from somewhere behind me.

Thompson and I are both breathing hard but neither of us shift our attention to Amar.

I throw a feint at Thompson's face and when he moves to block I land a solid hit to his ribs. He's quick to reach out and grab my wrist and he twists my arm around behind my back while driving me face first into the floor. I can hear my bones grinding as Thompson puts pressure on my arm.

"Is this what you wanted?" he grunts into my ear as he pushes my face into the mat.

With all his weight on me and my face in the mat I can barely breathe. He strains my arm until tears blur my vision and I cry out in pain.

"I concede," I snarl, voice muffled by the ground.

Thompson relents enough to let me lift my face. "What was that?"

"I concede." The words come out in a breathless huff.

He stays on me for a moment longer and then releases me and stands. I roll onto my back with a groan and nurse my injured arm. Thompson looks down at me with cold eyes.

My anger ebbs away with every throb of pain from my arm and face. I sit up slowly, blood dripping down my chin.

"We'll talk later, okay?" I tell him as I lift the bottom of my shirt to my face. I don't look at him but I hear him exhale sharply and then climb down off the mat. I watch him leave from the corner of my eye and once he's out the door I rise to my feet.

Amar is glaring at me and the initiates are either staring up at me with wide eyes or looking pointedly at the floor.

"They were supposed to fight today," Amar says. His voice is tight and I can tell he wants to yell at me but he won't do it in front of the initiates.

"It's fine," I grumble. "They can still fight today."

"And they will," he snaps, "after you clean the mat from top to bottom by hand."

I wince at his punishment but I don't argue with him. Things could be worse.

* * *

"I brought you an apple."

I look up at Mia from my spot on the floor. Initiates are just coming back in from lunch and I've finally finished cleaning the mat. I'm winded, soaked in sweat, and more than a little hungry.

I take the apple from her and smile. "Thank you, Mia."

"You're welcome."

She continues to stand beside me as I bite into the fruit. Juice dribbles down my chin and I wipe it away with the back of my hand.

"Are you okay?" she asks quietly.

"I'm a little sore but I'll be fine," I tell her around my bite of apple.

"That's not what I meant."

I stop chewing and look up to meet her eyes. There's a stern expression on her face and I get the feeling she's not about to relent. I finish chewing and swallow.

"I'm fine, Mia."

She scrutinizes me and then sighs, clearly not believing me. Mia gives me one last look and then leaves to join her fellow initiates.

I watch the first fight while I finish eating my apple, but once it's down to its core I hoist myself up and leave. Amar gives me a sideways glance on my way out but he doesn't say anything to stop me.

The infirmary is empty so I toss my apple core in the trash and then make myself comfortable on a bed. It feels like I've only closed my eyes for a second but the next thing I know Thompson is shaking me awake and helping me into a sitting position.

He leans against the desk, crosses his arms over his chest, and watches me. He says nothing and he makes no move to clean me up or treat my injuries.

"I've never had sex with Amar," I say, rubbing sleep from my eyes. "I only said it because I knew it'd make you angry."

His jaw clenches.

"Amar's not even a little bit attracted to me," I mutter, a smile twisting my lips. "I dunno _why_ you thought we could be sleeping together."

"You're always together," Thompson tells me bluntly. "You're always all over each other; smiling and laughing like you two have some kind of private joke. I'm not the only one who's suspicious."

I shrug, not having any other answer.

"You don't even care, do you?"

"Why should I? People are gonna think what they want to think."

"People think you're a _whore_, Caria," he growls.

I roll my eyes and take my hair out of its ponytail so I can run my fingers through it.

Thompson observes me before asking quietly, "Does that really not bother you?"

"Does it really bother you?" I shoot back. "People have been accusing me of sleeping with everyone since I was an initiate, Thompson. You know that."

He looks away from me and then slowly moves around the room gathering gauze and bandages. He cleans the dried blood from my face and knuckles and then disinfects my hand before wrapping it. Using a penlight he checks my pupils and then feels my head for any swelling. The last thing he does is check out my arm before giving me a clean bill of health.

I stand slowly and take it upon myself to rifle through the cabinets for a bottle of Hydrocodone. I toss a pill into my mouth and then put the bottle back.

"Those make you nauseous on an empty stomach," Thompson reminds me.

"Mia brought me an apple."

"That was nice of her."

"Yeah."

We stand in still silence. I don't want to go back to the training room but I don't have an excuse not to. I roll my shoulders and put my hair back up before turning to make my leave.

"What put you in such a bad mood this morning?" Thompson asks as I reach for the door.

A swell of anger rises in me and I have to bite my cheek to keep it down. I glance back at him over my shoulder with a forced smile.

"Don't you know? Tomorrow is visiting day."

* * *

A/N: I do not own Divergent.

In the next chapter it'll be revealed which Faction Caria is originally from so I hope you're looking forward to that! Thank you to everyone who was followed, favorited, and reviewed! I really appreciate it and thank you for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Four**

I'm awake and out of bed before any of the other initiates so I take the time to shower and get dressed before I leave for the training room. We're supposed to meet in the Pit for visiting day but I know that no one will be here to see me. Even if Marcus came to visit by some horrible twist of fate I wouldn't see him.

The training room is empty and quiet and the smell of sweat and leather fill my nose. It's become a familiar scent and I stand for a minute, letting it fill my head. I exhale slowly and make my way toward a punching bag.

As I lay into the bag I let my mind go blank. There's no point in thinking about anything other than the repetition of punches and kicks anyway. I've worked up a light sweat when I hear someone clear their throat.

"You're not supposed to be in here today," Caria says as she walks up to me. "It's visiting day after all."

"I don't have anyone coming," I tell her. I steady the punching bag and look her up and down.

I've never seen Caria in anything except for Dauntless black, so the white sundress she's wearing is a little shocking. Her hair is twisted back in some intricate fashion, and her bruises and bandages are on display. Any other woman would probably look fragile, but somehow Caria appears even more fierce and intimidating than usual.

She frowns and glances over her shoulder toward the door. She sighs loudly and shakes her head. "I can't let you stay in here alone."

"Then you should stay and train with me," I tell her, a small smile forming on my lips.

She smirks, and for a moment I think she's going to relent. "I wish I could but I have somewhere to be."

"Where?" I ask out of curiosity, but also because I want to stay in the training room for as long as I can. There isn't anywhere else for me to go in the compound.

Caria doesn't say anything. She narrows her eyes and studies me, crossing her arms over her chest. A chill goes down my spine and for a moment I have to wonder how Amar can be so relaxed around her.

"If you don't have anyone coming to visit you then how about you come with me?"

"Go with you...?"

"I won't lie to you and tell you it'll be fun but it is something to do today."

She has a point.

"Okay."

* * *

"Is this really okay?"

Caria doesn't even open her eyes. She sits against the wall of the train car, her head resting against the metal. Her legs are out in front of her and crossed at the ankle, and she has her hands in her lap. "Is what okay?"

"Me going with you. Is that really okay for me to do."

"Of course. You're allowed out of the compound so long as you're with a Dauntless member."

There's something distant and cold about Caria's disposition that's putting me on edge. I've never seen her like this and it's somehow more intimidating than her anger.

We ride in tense silence for what feels like forever, and just as I start to think that we're not headed for a real destination Caria stands and opens the car door. She waves me over next to her and when the train slows down we both jump.

Without a word, Caria brushes the dirt from her dress and then begins walking in the direction of trees. After a moment I realize where we're headed.

"Amity?"

She grunts and leads me into the shade of an orchard. She stops at a tree and places her hand on the bark, looking above her into the branches. I watch as she grips the trunk and hoists herself up, scaling the tree as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She comes back down a moment later gripping a bright red apple.

She lifts the skirt of her dress and uses it to clean the apple, then she takes a large bite from the fruit and continues her walk.

On the other side of the orchard is the Amity compound. In the center of everything is a building made entirely of glass. It gleams in the sun and I have to shade my eyes in order to see where I'm going. Caria appears completely unaffected.

She stops in front of a house and raises her hand to knock on the door. She hesitates and then turns to look at me over her shoulder. Very quietly, she says, "Don't eat the bread," and before I can respond she's rapping her knuckles against the door and shoving her apple into her mouth.

A thin, tan woman opens the door. She is bundled in layers of red and yellow clothes despite how warm it is. Her eyes meet Caria's and a terse smile spreads on her lips. She extends her arms and wraps Caria in an embrace.

"Evelyn," she says softly. "Lunch is almost ready."

The woman pulls away and retreats into the house. Caria heaves a sigh and I follow her inside.

The air is thick and clammy and I feel sweat begin to bead on my brow almost immediately. I can smell freshly baked bread and hear voices through a doorway. Caria leads me into what looks like a dining room and settles down at a table covered in food. I sit carefully beside her, not sure how to act.

The woman that answered the door sets a steaming loaf of bread down and then sits opposite a rough looking man at the head of the table. His eyes had settled on Caria the moment she entered the room and his gaze has not faltered, not even when two more men join the table.

There's an awkward silence between the six of us and then the woman reaches out to grasp Caria's hand. "Who's your friend, Evelyn?"

I see Caria's jaw tense and then relax. She pulls her hand away and reaches for a bowl of something orange. "This is Four. He's a transfer initiate that I'm helping to train. He didn't have anyone coming to visit him today so I invited him along."

"What kind of name is Four," the man at the head of the table asks. His voice is rough and deep; the kind of voice that sounds disgruntled even when trying to be genuine.

"A very good name for someone in Dauntless," she answers and then hands the bowl to me.

I hold it over my plate, trying to discern what it is but not wanting to ask. Caria seems to sense this and states, "Mashed sweet potatoes."

The man scoffs under his breath and I feel a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck.

"They're letting _you_ train initiates?" one of the other men ask. He has a cheeky grin and his tan skin brings out the blue in his eyes.

"Yes." Caria's answer is short and impatient. It's obvious she doesn't want to be here, trading these formalities.

We fill our plates without much more conversation. The room is filled with the sound of forks clinking against knives and people chewing. The food is delicious; better than what I've been eating at Dauntless and on an entirely different level from what I used to eat in Abnegation. Caria told me not to eat the bread, but part of me is trying to think of what the consequence for eating it could possibly be.

"So," the man across from me hums, "_Four_, is it? How awful is it having our little Evelyn as a trainer?"

My brows furrow and from the corner of my eye I see Caria's knuckles go white from gripping her fork so tightly.

"Why do you keep calling her Evelyn?" I ask.

The woman blinks in surprise. "Why, that's her name, of course."

"No. Her name is Caria."

The man at the head of the table slams his water glass against the table, making me flinch. He exhales slowly and stares down his nose at Caria, who hasn't glanced up or stopped eating. I can feel heat fill the room as rage rolls off of him in waves.

I bite the inside of my cheek, regretting my words.

"Evelyn is prone to her little rebellions," the man says, and despite the heat a chill goes down my spine.

Caria snorts and finally looks up from her plate. Her eyes are cold, and looking between the two of them makes their relation to one another obvious. The two other men must have taken after the mother.

"Little rebellions? Is that what you're calling it now?" she asks.

"Even when she was young she was a troublemaker; stealing apples off the trees and skipping out on her work. Then she transfers to _Dauntless_ of all places." He spits the word Dauntless like it tastes bad on his tongue.

Caria rolls her eyes and bites a spear of asparagus in half.

"And now look at you." His voice drops to a low growl and I feel goosebumps raise on my arms. "You come in here covered in bruises and dressed like a _whore_, showing off your latest _toy _like you have no shame."

There is silence except for Caria chewing. She swallows and then takes a long drink of water. Everyone is watching her for her reaction. When she sets her glass down I expect her to retaliate but instead she shoves the other half of her asparagus spear into her mouth and pushes her plate away.

She stands, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor incredibly loud, and then, still chewing, reaches behind her and begins to unzip her dress.

"_What are you doing_?!" the man snarls at her, rising to his feet himself and pounding his fist on the table.

I look away as her dress falls to the floor, heat rushing up my neck and into my face. She's naked except for a pair of nude colored underwear and her shoes.

"I mean, you said I have no shame, right?" she states, her voice amused. "So I may as well let you be right about _some_thing."

He grinds his teeth together and slowly lowers himself back into his chair.

"Get out of my house."

Caria clucks her tongue. "Will do. Let's go, Four."

I stand and keep my eyes down as I go to follow her out of the house and out into the openness of the Amity compound. We're halfway back to the train when I realize she left her dress on the dining room floor.

* * *

"Where the hell were you all day?" Eric asks as he sits across from me with his tray of food.

I avoid his eyes as a new flush rises on my face.

"What?" he asks, smirking. "Embarrassed no one came to visit you?"

"No," I shoot back at him, narrowing my eyes in his direction. Over his shoulder, seated at a table with Amar and Tori, I see Caria. I look back down and bury my face in my hands.

Eric shifts to look behind him and then turns back with a raised brow.

I take a long drink of water and try to clear my head.

Eric is halfway through his hamburger when I tell him, "Caria took me to have lunch with her family."

He stops chewing immediately and looks up at me with dark eyes. "Liar."

"Ask her yourself then."

He glances over his shoulder in her direction and then turns back to me. "Where did you go?"

"Amity."

"Amity?" he repeats, incredulous.

I nod. "We took the train and walked through an apple orchard."

"And you had lunch with her family?" His voice is still skeptical.

"Yeah."

"And that's it?"

"Yeah, and then we came back here."

"Then why is your face so red?"

I stand up with my tray. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Hey- come on! Four!"

Eric yells after me as I bus my tray and leave the cafeteria. I head for the dormitory, and even though it's still early, I crawl into bed and try to get some sleep.

* * *

A/N: I do not own Divergent.

So Caria's originally from Amity! The reason this chapter is from Four's point of view is mostly because I thought it would be interesting to have an outsider be the one to observe Caria's interaction with her family, which was really fun to write. Also, if you'd like a little bit of trivia and some insight into her character, you should look up the Latin meaning of Caria in comparison to the meaning of the name Evelyn because, remember, in Dauntless they get to _pick_ their names.

Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story! I really appreciate it and it really does mean a lot to me.


	11. Chapter 11

**Eric**

The first thing I notice when I walk into the room is the disgruntled look on Caria's face. She looks to be deep in conversation with Amar but whatever it is that he's telling her isn't making her happy. Her eyes are dark and her lips are pinched and she's got her arms crossed over her chest. The word upset doesn't even begin to describe her expression.

It doesn't take too much longer for all the other initiates to fill the room, Dauntless born and transfers alike, and when all of us are present Amar begins to explain what's about to happen.

"Today you'll be going back into your fear landscapes," he says slowly, eyes sweeping over the room.

A few people flinch or tense up while some just sigh. Since we experienced our fear landscapes the very first day of initiation we all have some idea of what to expect.

"The first time we did this you went through all your fears at once. This time you'll be facing one at a time every day for the next couple weeks. Over that time the goal is to get out of the simulation as quickly as you possibly can."

I glance at Four and feel a small surge of jealousy. Only four fears to work through isn't going to take long at all.

"You'll go one at a time and I'll be the one to administer the test," Amar continues. He nudges Caria, who jolts suddenly and looks around. "Caria on the other hand..."

She runs a hand through her hair and states, "I'll be providing counseling."

I can feel a snort swelling in my throat but one of the Candor initiates beats me to it.

"_Counseling_?" Kyler asks incredulously. "Why would we need counseling?"

"The way you'll be facing your fears in the landscape is basically exposure therapy," Caria explains slowly. "When you come out of the landscape you're likely to be affected by what you went through for quite some time afterward. I'll be available in the infirmary to talk over what you face in your landscapes. Some fears are irrational but others can be explained, and the ones that can be explained can likely be fought here in the real world as well. If that's successful then it's possible that the number of fears in your landscape will decrease."

There's a silence in the room as her words settle. After another moment she shrugs.

"Counseling will be entirely voluntary. I won't seek you out or force you to talk. It'll be entirely up to you."

After another moment or two Amar calls the first initiate and Caria leaves the room. When she brushes past me there's a faraway look in her eyes.

* * *

**Caria**

No one shows up to see me for counseling until the third day.

There is a soft knock on the door to my office and then Four walks in. He stands awkwardly by the door, his shoulders pulled in.

"You can take a seat," I tell him, gesturing around the room.

He hesitates before he sits down on a plush couch across from my desk. He avoids eye contact, choosing instead to pick at a hangnail on his thumb.

I allow him to sit quietly for a solid ten minutes before calling his name. He flinches and shrinks in on himself before glancing up at me. His eyes are red.

"Tell me about your first day," I say.

"Heights," he answers, wringing his hands and looking back down. "I was stuck up in the air between two buildings."

I nod. "Heights is a common fear."

"It makes me feel stupid," he says softly.

"It shouldn't. It's a fear you face and overcome every day using the trains."

He shrugs, not at all comforted by my words. A fear of heights isn't the reason he's here, we both know that.

"What about yesterday? What was your fear then?"

"Small spaces. I was locked in a shrinking room."

I nod. "Claustrophobia will have fewer real life instances to encounter here in the compound."

"Yeah," he agrees, not really listening to me.

I give him time to broach the subject of his most recent fear but what he says next catches me by surprise.

"Did your father ever hit you?"

I purse my lips and look down at my hands. "Never physically, no."

"Today was my father," he says softly. "It was more a memory than anything else. He came home, he got the belt, he told me it was for my own good while he hit me."

My hands clench into fists as many things I've wondered about Four slowly fall into place. The reason he would leave Abnegation, his high tolerance for pain, his modest dress.

"On the train after the ceremony you asked my name," he reminds me, looking up almost shyly. "It's Tobias."

The name rings a bell but I can't quite place it. Four sees what must be confusion on my face because he ducks his head again and whispers, "Tobias Eaton."

Understanding strikes white hot.

"Your father is..."

"Marcus Eaton."

The knowledge that the head of Abnegation is a child abuser pushes anger through my veins. I feel it boil in my stomach as I continue to stare at Four, rendered so small by having to confront his memory in the simulation.

"What did you do in the simulation, Four?" I ask, knowing my voice is tense.

His fists clench and he looks up to meet my eye. "I fought back."

Something a little like pride begins to extinguish the rage in my belly and I smile at him. "Good."

"I didn't want to go back to the dorm after it was over, and everyone else goes to the cafeteria so I didn't want to go there either," Four says. He smiles almost apologetically as he confesses, "This seemed like a good alternative."

"Who all knows?" I ask. "About who you are."

"You, Amar, and Tori," he answers. "You're the only one I've told myself, though. Tori did my aptitude test and Amar has seen the simulations."

I nod. "Well I doubt anyone else is going to be coming to see me today. Want to head to the training room? I can show you a few more moves for your next simulation."

He tries to squash the smile that grows on his lips as he nods. "I think I'd like that."

In the training room we kick our shoes off and hop onto the mat for a hands on approach.

"When you're going for the face a punch isn't the smart choice," I explain to him. "You're liable to break a finger or a knuckle if you go about it wrong. The better thing to do is to take the heel of your hand here and aim upward into the nose."

I move quickly, showing him the proper stance and stopping just short of driving my hand into his face. He flinches back but grins at me.

"Could we fight for real?" he asks, taking a few steps back from me.

"Four, you're a great fighter but you couldn't last two minutes in a fight against me," I tell him with a smirk. "And if I send _another_ initiate to the infirmary after kicking their ass Thompson is gonna be pissed at me."

He looks contemplative for a moment before asking, "Why did you fight him?"

"I'm on a short fuse around visiting day," I tell him. It's mostly true, after all. "I needed to blow off some steam and I knew Thompson would actually give me a fight."

Four nods for a moment before his eyes widen and he looks pointedly away from me, a flush rising up his neck and face. It takes a moment for me to realize why he's reacting in such a way, but when I do my skin prickles and I look in the opposite direction as well.

"Ah, right. Sorry about that. I tend to get kind of... _irrational_ around my family."

There's a tense silence between us, but it eases slowly until finally Four murmurs, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I snort and shove his shoulder. "That's supposed to be _my _line, initiate."

His smile is small and he rubs the back of his head. "Of anyone you could talk to about it I'll probably understand pretty well."

My heart aches at his words and the nonchalant way he says them. I heave a sigh and gesture for him to sit with me on the edge of the mat.

"I never fit in growing up in Amity," I tell him, leaning forward to slip my shoes back on. "They put a lot of emphasis on peace and hard work and it all sounds good in theory but I couldn't solve all my problems with people the way Amity wanted me to."

Four nods but doesn't say anything.

"I got into a fist fight when I was a kid and my parents flipped out. Especially my dad. He just didn't understand why I couldn't be the sweet little girl he wanted or why I was so much more of a handful than either of my brothers had been. He became even more strict, and everyone put even more emphasis on diplomacy to fix problems and all it did was make me want to leave even more."

"Little rebellions," Four offers, his voice soft in the large room.

I snort and roll my eyes. "He considered everything I did to be a rebellion. When I transferred he wouldn't even look at me. My mom was the one to come see me on visiting day, and even then it was obvious she didn't want to be here. So she said if I became a full fledged member I should go to see them in Amity instead. Even as she said it I could tell she didn't think I'd really make it. I think it was her way of saying they'd feed me if I became factionless."

"... But you do go to see them."

"Yeah... but it's not out of love. It's more out of spite than anything. To show them I'm not just living in Dauntless, I'm _thriving_. I'm the opposite of everything they tried to instill in me and I'm just bitter enough to want to rub it in their faces."

Four's silence makes me realize my words might be a little more harsh than he was expecting, so I look up at him with a grin. "Plus the food is incredible."

He cracks a smile. "Growing up in Abnegation I didn't even know food could taste so good."

"I can't even imagine," I tell him, wrinkling my nose and standing.

"Why did he call me a toy," Four asks quietly, catching me by surprise.

I shift uncomfortably and run a hand through my hair. "It's... complicated."

He nods. "Will you tell me someday?"

"... Yeah. Someday."

I reach out and squeeze his shoulder while offering a smile that I hope is reassuring.

He stands suddenly, his own hands reaching for my shoulders. He looks like he's just had an epiphany and he asks, rather loudly, "Will you go to the tattoo parlor with me?"

I bite my lips to stop a laugh from slipping out. "Four, you don't need a Dauntless member's permission to get a tattoo."

He flushes but shakes his head. "That's not it. I- will you just come with me?"

"Sure."

* * *

"Who's done your tattoos?" he asks while we wait in the parlor, examining the pieces hung on the walls.

"Tori does all of mine."

He nods and I see him reach for something from the corner of my eye. I glance over to see him holding the symbol of Dauntless: a fire inside a circle.

"That'll be an easy one to get done," I tell him. "They apply these ones on the wall differently than the others."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Because they're pretty common picks they have ways to apply them quickly and easily so they can get cranked out instead of having to spend half an hour on each one."

"Do you have any of these?"

Before I can answer there's a scoff from behind us.

"No, Car here likes to make everything more complicated for me," Tori says, smirking at me.

"All of mine are unique," I explain. "They're important to me."

She waves me off and takes the picture from Four. "Do you want this one?"

"Yeah." He reaches behind him and places a hand on his upper back. "Here."

Tori and Four disappear into the back for about five minutes. When they come back out Tori asks me, "Are you getting something, too?"

"Not just yet."

"Any other touch ups?"

"I dunno. You'd have to tell me how my back looks."

She gestures for me to show her and I shed my shirt without a second thought, turning to show her my back. She examines me closely, running a finger down my spine and making me shiver.

"You should be fine for a little while longer with this one," she says finally. "It's gonna be a fun one to touch up."

"It's gonna be a bitch and a half is what it's gonna be," I grumble, pulling my shirt back on.

She slaps a hand to my shoulder. "Don't be a baby about it."

I poke my tongue out at her before noticing Four's dazed look.

"Hey, what's up? You okay?"

He blinks, eyes focusing on my face before looking away with a growing blush. "Nothing."

Tori snorts from beside me. "We'll get you over that Abnegation modesty yet, kid. Car has a bad habit of losing her clothes."

"... He knows," I mutter, blushing and rubbing the back of my neck.

"Oh does he?" she asks, smirking and nudging me in the ribs.

I cough. "You remember how I told you about this last visiting day...?"

Her brows furrow a moment in thought and then her eyes widen in realization before she bursts out laughing.

If anything, Four's face turns an even deeper shade of red.

"I really liked that dress, too," I sigh. "It really brought out all my bruises."

"You just hate clothes," Tori jabs while returning the Dauntless symbol to the wall of tattoos.

"They're restrictive," I counter.

A cough behind us catches our attention and I turn to see another blushing initiate in Eric. He shifts awkwardly, not making eye contact, and finally Tori asks, "Just how many initiates have seen you naked, Car?"

I open my mouth and close it, trying to think of the proper answer as the two boys exchange a look.

"Half naked," I correct, though it's really not much of a defense.

"They must be absolutely scarred," she drawls, throwing me a smirk before turning to ask Eric what he wants done.

He gestures to his eyebrow and she moves to wipe down a chair and disinfect a large curved needle.

"Eric has seen you naked?" Four asks lowly in my ear as we leave the shop.

"Half naked," I grumble. "I was drunk and he was out past curfew so I had him help me back to my apartment. I think I asked him to help take my pants off? It's a little bit foggy."

"I guess that's not so bad-"

"I'd already taken my shirt off at the bar."

Four starts to laugh but it morphs into a groan and he rubs his face.

"What?"

"I told Eric that I'd gone with you on visiting day but I didn't tell him about... _that_."

"He probably didn't even hear anything," I say. "And if he did he probably has no idea what really happened."

"He's gonna ask about it," Four answers confidently. "I know it."

I shrug. "Tell him whatever you want. Or don't. I don't really care."

We're halfway back to the infirmary when he asks, "Why don't you care?"

"Four..." I shake my head and sigh. "People are going to think what they're going to think, no matter what the truth might be. I can try to correct them and waste everyone's time or I can just roll with it."

He looks like he's about to say something so I reach out and stop him.

"Don't worry about it, Four. You should be focusing on your simulations, not on my reputation."

"... Okay."

"Okay. I'll see you later, Four."

And with that, we part ways.

* * *

A/N: I don't even have a good explanation as to why this chapter took so long to get done but here it is! A bunch of filler and interaction between Caria and Four before we get into some real drama.

Also, since the question was asked a while ago I'll just go ahead and answer here: the pairing of this fic is very much Eric and Caria. She spends quite a bit of time with other initiates and other people because it exposes more of who she is as a character and how she may act differently around others. Fleshing out my characters and making them more interesting and/or realistic is important to me as a writer, which is why Caria isn't spending all her time attached to Eric. As an OC she has her own life and experiences within the Divergent universe (some of which are about to be brought up pretty soon). As for whether I'm basing Eric off the books or the movies, I'm mixing a bit of both, because I absolutely love Jai Courtney. It's going to be gradual though, little changes to his appearance here and there over the course of the fic.

Anyway! Thanks so much for reading and sticking with me and I hope this chapter at least sort of makes up for the long wait for an update. All favorites, follows, and reviews are greatly appreciated! Have a nice day!


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